tears. The
rest of us were able to raise only a faint smile, and we felt his
disappointment at our lack of humour.

"Ah, but it is most _funny!_" he said. "I will tell everyone. In future
they shall for us be '_saucissons_' forever. I suppose it is not so
funny for you, because the sight of these dead towns has made you sad. I
am almost afraid to take you on to Chauny. You will be much sadder
there. Chauny is the sight most pitiful of all. Would you perhaps wish
to avoid it?"

"What about you, Mother?" Father Beckett wanted to know.

But Mother had no wish to avoid Chauny. She was not able to believe that
anything could be sadder than Roye, or Nesle, or Ham, or more grim than
Jussy.

"He doesn't want to take us to Chauny," Brian whispered to me. We were
all grouped together near the cars, with Sirius, a quiet, happy dog.
"He's trying to think up a new excuse to get out of it."

I glanced at our guide. It was _like_ Brian to have guessed what we
hadn't seen! Now I was on the alert, the clear-cut French face _did_
look nonplussed; and a nervous brown hand was tugging at a smart black
moustache.

"Is there any reason why you think it would be better for us not to go
there?" I decided to ask frankly.

"It's getting rather late," he suggested, in his precise English. "You
have also the Pavilion of Prince Eitel Fritz before you. If it grows too
dark, you cannot see St. Quentin well, in the distance, and the glasses
will be of no use for Soissons."

"But we're _going_ to Soissons day after to-morrow!" said Father
Beckett.

"And there'll be a moon presently," added Dierdre. She had heard of the
ruined convent at Chauny and was determined not to miss it.

"Yes, there'll be a moon," reluctantly admitted Monsieur le Lieutenant.

"Is there still another reason?" I tried to help him.

"Well, yes, there is one, Mademoiselle," he blurted out. "I had meant
not to mention it. But perhaps it is best to tell, and then you may all
choose whether you go to Chauny or not. There is a certain risk at this
time of day, or a little later. You know we are close to the front here,
and enemy aeroplanes fly nearly every afternoon over Chauny toward dusk.
They hope to catch some important personage, and they come expressly to
'spot' automobiles. The road through the ruined town is white and new,
and the gray military cars in which we bring visitors to the front stand
out clearly, especially as twilight falls. I'm afraid we have lingere